The Duke's Deception

  *~*~*

  "I don't see why that wouldn't work," Larkin said quietly, smiling pleasantly at Lady Belrose. "My supplier can be fickle, so it may take an extra day or two, but the amount isn't an issue."

  "Wonderful," Belrose enthused. Her eyes were a little too bright as she patted his arm, her smile a little too wide. "You can send it to my townhouse, yes?"

  "Like before," Larkin said. The tremor in her fingers was faint, only noticeable because he knew to look for it. "The series is a fantastic read. I'm sure you won't be disappointed."

  "If it comes from you, your grace, I am never disappointed," Belrose said. She glanced across the room to a gaggle of ladies who were pretending not to watch them. "If you'll excuse me, I want to tell Alice. She's always so excited when you have new books to recommend to us."

  "Of course," Larkin said, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. She smiled at him—again, too wide, too fake—and slipped away.

  The garden party was a small gathering, only a hundred or so guests milling about. Lord Paquet was hosting just enough of the right people that Larkin had to go despite his inclination to stay in bed for another three days.

  The healing potion he'd taken was either much more potent than the ones Garnett had experienced, or Larkin was overly sensitive to them, for he'd slept for closer to twenty hours and woke up feeling like was recovering from a severe case of the flu instead of from a simple overindulgence of wine. Larkin had spent another day or so hiding away in his quarters, begging illness to any who came knocking.

  "You're looking better."

  Larkin turned, hoping he didn't look as startled as he felt. He hadn't heard Garnett approach—hadn't even known Garnett was attending this event. Garnett, his manservant informed him, had stopped by three times. In the first stroke of luck Larkin had had all week, he'd been trying to sleep off the aftereffects of the potion each time.

  Garnett cut a fine figure in perfectly tailored, dark blue jacket that set off his blue eyes and lent him a solemn air. Not that he needed the aid, given the serious set to his face.

  "You're not looking too bad yourself, your highness," Larkin said. He smiled easily at Garnett, the same sweet, empty smile he gave all the men and women he sold to. "I wasn't aware you enjoyed Lord Paquet's events."

  "You've been avoiding me," Garnett said, lowering his voice. He stepped closer, ostensibly so that Larkin could hear him better. Larkin raised his eyebrows, calculating his chances of weaseling out of this conversation.

  "I was ill, didn't you hear?" Larkin asked, wrinkling his nose. "Nasty bit of stomach upset, though it's thankfully passed."

  Garnett scoffed, though he didn't contradict Larkin out loud. "It looked more serious than stomach upset to me."

  "Did it really? Well, I'm well on the road to recovery, your highness, but I appreciate your concern," Larkin said. He resisted the urge to flex his fingers. His arm was still sore even though all the cuts and gashes had healed completely—at least on the surface. "If you'll excuse me, I—"

  "No," Garnett said, a grim smile flashing across his face. Larkin really didn't want to contemplate who had noticed Garnett or Garnett's interest in him.

  "I'm sorry?"

  "No, I will not excuse you," Garnett said. His eyes never left Larkin's, a steady, piercing gaze that left Larkin with the unsettling thought that Garnett could see right through him. "You owe me answers. I can try to find them on my own, but somehow I doubt you want me looking too hard into your affairs."

  "You have questions about my affairs?" Larkin asked, smiling slowly at Garnett. "I'm not one to kiss and tell, your highness."

  Garnett didn't flinch from that despite Larkin's last hopes for distraction. Garnett continued to watch him, and Larkin fought the urge to squirm. "So you're telling me I should make my own, very public, inquiries as to where your injuries came from the other night? And why you were in a position to get them?"

  "Are you telling me this doesn't seem public to you?" Larkin asked. "Or are our definitions of public different?"

  Garnett inclined his head, apparently conceding that point. "When can I speak with you privately, then?"

  "I'd prefer not at all, but since you're insisting…" Larkin trailed off, debating what the best way to handle this was. If he didn't show to whatever meeting, then Garnett would simply track him down again and not let him go that time.

  "I am insisting."

  "Then come by my rooms this evening at your leisure. I believe you're familiar with where they are?" Larkin asked, giving Garnett another quick, easy smile.

  "Don't dodge me," Garnett said. He finally looked away from Larkin, glancing past Larkin's shoulder. Larkin felt like he could breathe again, but before he had a chance to think about that, a small woman dressed in bright pink silk breezed up to his side.

  "Pardon my interruption, your highness, but could I possibly steal Lord Giroux from you?" Alice Royer asked, smiling prettily at Garnett. "He promised me to show me Lord Paquet's roses earlier, and I have to leave soon."

  "Of course, Miss Royer," Garnett said, even summoning a smile from somewhere for her. He was much more handsome when he smiled; the expression softened him, erasing years of tension and worry from his face.

  "It was a pleasure conversing with you, your highness," Larkin said. If the words carried a bit of sarcastic bite, well, that was best for appearance's sake. "Shall we, Miss Royer?"

  Garnett thankfully let him go without another word. Larkin took Alice's arm and led her away from the party into the gardens. Alice was quiet as they walked, waiting until they reached the roses, which were a good distance away from the party and the stragglers who had moved away from it in search of their own bit of privacy.

  "Is he going to cause any problems?" Alice asked, tilting her head up to meet Larkin's eyes. "I wouldn't want Lady Belrose to miss out on her delivery. She was so looking forward to getting those books from you."

  "No problems," Larkin said, letting go of Alice's arm. She was one of Lady Belrose's group. They pooled together to purchase from him. "He ran into me the other night and had the misfortune to see me when I was relatively certain the flu was about to kill me. Apparently he thought it was."

  Alice snorted, a distinctly unladylike sound. Larkin politely ignored it, watching as she turned her focus onto the roses in front of them. "Did you know Lord Paquet imported the blue roses? I forget from where, but he was very proud of them."

  "They are beautiful," Larkin said, barely glancing at the roses. His mind was already spinning, trying to come up with something he could tell Garnett that would satisfy him without ruining Larkin in the process. Somehow he doubted Garnett—straight-laced and proper—would approve of what Larkin was in the middle of.

  The afternoon passed quickly; the party broke up mid-afternoon, and Larkin spent the rest of his day visiting his various customers. He had the start of a good order list by the time night fell but was still no closer to figuring out what to tell Garnett.

  Walking down the hallway towards his rooms, Larkin considered his options for the hundredth time. He'd probably have to play some of his cards as he didn't think Garnett would let him get away with anything less than that. Taking the last corner, Larkin stopped, startled to find Garnett loitering outside his rooms.

  Recovering himself quickly, Larkin closed the remaining distance, already reaching for his wards. "You're early, your highness."

  "It's evening," Garnett said. He didn't step away as Larkin approached the door, putting them close enough that Larkin could smell his cologne again. Opening the door, Larkin stepped inside, holding the door open for Garnett. He let the wards slide back into place once he'd shut the door.

  "Technically, though, no one I know would consider this an appropriate time for a late night assignation," Larkin said, amused when Garnett glowered at the implication he was visiting Larkin for something so inappropriate. "Have a seat. Would you like a drink?"

  "Sure," Garnett said. He studied the sofa for a
moment before taking a seat at the far end. Larkin had a smart comment on his lips about nothing staining it before he remembered—fuzzily—that Garnett had seen him bleeding on the sofa only a few days previously.

  Garnett liked expensive scotch. Ruben had complained of the difficulty of finding Garnett's preferred brand a few times in Larkin's hearing. He had scotch, though it likely wasn't up to Garnett's usual standards. Nothing in Larkin's limited bar would be, however, so he poured the scotch. Bringing the tumblers over to the sofa, Larkin passed one to Garnett and then claimed the seat adjacent to the sofa.

  "Thank you," Garnett said, taking a sip of the scotch. He made a pleased little noise, a smile softening his face briefly. He settled back in his seat, staring expectantly at Larkin.

  "I don't know what you think I can tell you, your highness," Larkin said. He swirled the scotch in his glass, focusing on that instead of Garnett. He didn't want to lie to Garnett, but he couldn't tell him the truth, either.

  "You could start with why you didn't want to go to the healers the other night," Garnett said, his voice deceptively casual. "Or why you had a healing potion when those are far and above your means."

  Larkin laughed, pleased to note he kept most of the bitterness he felt out of it. "What do you know of my means, highness?"

  "I know your father had a gambling problem. I know when he died those debts largely fell to you. I know you don't seem to do much to deal with it and yet are suffering no consequences because of it," Garnett listed off.

  "Close enough," Larkin said, taking a swallow of his scotch. "Those debts all fell to me, yes. I'm working to absolve them, and it requires… some delicate negotiations. I don't particularly care to discuss my financial straits with my peers, highness, so I suppose it does appear as though I'm not doing anything to fix the problem."

  "Where did you get the healing potion?" Garnett pressed. Larkin considered the question. He could lie, say it was passed down from his father. He could try and pass off the attack the other night as simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time because he'd been dealing with one of his father's former associates.

  That wouldn't keep Garnett away from him. Garnett's continued presence and interest in what he was doing would ruin everything as sure as his making inquiries about Larkin's activities would. Plus, there was no guarantee Garnett wouldn't make those inquiries.

  "Ruben," Larkin said simply. Garnett was the youngest child in the royal family. Ruben was a few years older, and their sister Esmeralda was the oldest and set to inherit the crown. Ruben managed the country's army and navy and—unbeknownst to most—a network of spies and informants. Larkin didn't consider himself a spy, not really.

  Garnett fumbled his tumbler, nearly spilling its contents into his lap. "Ruben."

  "That is what I said, highness," Larkin said. He took a sip of his scotch, shielding himself in whatever small way he could from Garnett's too sharp stare. "After my father's death, I was in a unique position to help… well, I can't really go into details, you understand. But your brother offered me a way out of my father's debts that wouldn't require I sell everything my mother and I own."

  "It's dangerous," Garnett said, though Larkin couldn't decide if that was an objection or a statement of fact.

  "It is." Larkin shrugged. He'd been dealing with the danger for over a year, and he was getting closer and closer to the end goal. Taking a deep breath, he fixed Garnett with a steady stare. "I need you to stay away, your highness."

  "Because it's dangerous?" Garnett asked, sitting forward in outrage. "I can handle myself—"

  "It's not dangerous for you," Larkin said, setting his tumbler down on the table in front of him with a sharp click. "You're known for being incorruptible, your highness. An admirable trait, but what do you think my father's associates will infer when they hear I've been seen with you on multiple occasions? Even if it's unwilling on my end—"

  "Is it?" Garnett asked. His voice was barely audible, and he looked at Larkin sadly, as though Larkin had promised him the world and then taken it away.

  "They'll see it as a risk they can't take," Larkin finished. "I need them to take that risk on me, your highness."

  Garnett sighed, setting down his tumbler. "I'll let Ruben know you need another healing potion."

  "Thank you," Larkin said, hoping that meant Garnett would take his point and stay away. "Under any other circumstances, your highness, I would enjoy your company greatly. I'm sorry—"

  "Don't apologize," Garnett said. He stood, dredging up a smile that even a child would have been able to tell was fake. "I understand. Perhaps we can speak again when you're finished with whatever you're doing with my brother?"

  "It's a promise, your highness," Larkin said, though he wasn't entirely sure there would be a finished that would let him keep that promise. He could hope, however, and it didn't hurt to give that promise to Garnett even if it turned out he wouldn't be able to keep it. He stood, unlocking the wards as he did so.

  "Garnett. You can call me by name," Garnett said, stepping close and pressing a kiss to Larkin's cheek. "Be careful."

  "As ever," Larkin said, the response falling from his lips automatically even as his mind raced to process that. Garnett smiled, sad and quiet. Larkin bit his tongue on asking Garnett to stay, just for the one evening, and Garnett left, pausing once to look back.

  It was better this way. Safer for him and for Garnett. Larkin sat down heavily in his seat, resetting the wards. He picked up his tumbler and downed the rest of his scotch in one neat swallow. He wished, for the thousandth time, that his father hadn't been such an idiot.